Chapter one

"... of Hollingsworth today. Highs will be in the mid-90s Fahrenheit in the Central Valley with cooler temperatures along the coast." The insistent blare of the alarm radio cuts through Cody's sleep, jolting him awake. He blinks blearily, his hand shooting out to hit the snooze button, but misses twice before finally silencing the unwelcome sound.

A low groan escaped Cody's lips as he lurched upright. Sleep clung to him like cobwebs, a testament to the late-night adventures he'd undoubtedly embarked on in the fantastical realms of Ashyn. His bleary eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall, the stark black numerals announcing the dreaded arrival of the first day of school. Senior year. Yikes.

Cody's room was a testament to his dual passions: comics and video games. Posters of superheroes in action poses adorned the walls, their vibrant colors offering a stark contrast to the faded wallpaper. A beanbag chair, worn and lumpy from countless hours spent strategizing epic quests, sat in one corner. A towering bookshelf groaned under the weight of countless comics, their well-loved spines from countless re-readings. A gaming console, its wires a tangled mess like a cybernetic beast, occupied a place of honor atop his desk. It was a room that spoke of epic battles, fantastical stories, and the comfort of familiar digital worlds.

Standing under the spray of the shower, Cody mentally pumped his fist. "Senior year, baby! No more taking crap. Time to be brave, own it, and maybe, just maybe, snag a date for prom.. " He trailed off, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, that might be a stretch." The rush of cool water invigorated Cody, washing away the remnants of sleep. He glanced down, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe senior year wouldn't be all textbooks and tests. A vision of a bright smile and sparkling eyes –Brooke Eversly– flickered in his mind. Just then, a familiar voice echoed through the house. "Cody! I'll be home late again and don't hog all the hot water!" his mom called out. "... and a good morning to you as well mom" he thought, as he turned the water off and it slowly trickled, so did his dreams of a physical release.

Disappointment tugged at Cody's stomach as he entered the kitchen for breakfast. The table was bare, devoid of the usual morning spread. "Guess I'm on my own for breakfast today," he mumbled, already formulating a plan for cereal.

Just then, a rustle from the doorway startled him. It was his dad, newspaper clutched in hand, coffee barely contained in a travel mug. "First day of senior year, huh?" he said, a hint of a smile peeking out from behind the paper. "Seems like yesterday you were begging for help tying your shoes."

Before Cody could respond, his dad continued, "Think it's about time you learned to make your own breakfast, champ. While you're at it, the trash could use a trip to the curb."

A rugged handsomeness defined Cody's dad. A five o'clock shadow clung to his face, hinting at long hours and early mornings. A hint of a gut strained against his uniform, a testament to years spent on the beat, not the gym. But his eyes, crinkled at the corners from laughter lines, held a warmth that disarmed. Honesty radiated from him, a quality as essential as his badge.

This morning, coffee in hand, he scanned the newspaper with a practiced eye. The headline - "Recession Shows No Sign of Slowing Down" - elicited a sigh. He folded the paper, the weight of the world seemingly settling on his shoulders. Glancing out the window, he saw Cody dutifully taking out the trash. "Looks like another breakfast on the run," he muttered, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

As he threw the paper on the table, a smaller headline caught his eye: "Car dealerships Boy Still Missing." His gaze lingered for a beat longer than necessary, a flicker of concern crossing his features. But duty called, and with a nod to himself, he headed out the door to follow Cody.

Cody wrestled with the overflowing trash can, the stale scent of yesterday's dinner clinging to the air. He grunted with effort as he maneuvered it down the driveway, a bead of sweat already forming on his forehead despite the early morning chill. He tossed the can with a satisfying clang and turned to head back inside, only to see his dad leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Rough start, champ?" Peter asked, his voice gruff but kind. The weight of the newspaper seemed to have lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a paternal warmth.

"Yeah, you could say that," Cody mumbled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Mom must have gotten called in early again."

Peter chuckled. "Always working hard, your mom. Probably saved you from a bowl of mush for breakfast anyway." He gestured towards the house. "Come on in, I was just making some coffee. Maybe theres some donuts leftover, we can grab one on the way to the station."

The offer felt like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor. The thought of a triple chocolate glazed donut, far superior to anything his mom would have whipped up in a rush, was enough to erase the lingering disappointment. As they walked back inside, Cody couldn't help but steal a glance at the discarded newspaper. The headline about the missing boy seemed to burn into his mind, a small seed of unease taking root. But for now, the promise of coffee and donuts, and the comforting presence of his dad, pushed those worries aside.

Once they got back in, Peter ruffled Cody's hair with a playful grin. "Alright, let me just grab my keys and we'll be off. Any preference on donut flavors?"

Cody grinned back, the warmth from the coffee chasing away the remnants of the early morning. "As long as they're fresh, I'm not picky, Dad." He hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, "Actually, there is one thing. Could we swing by the bus stop and pick Niles up on the way? It's just the first day and all, and I, uh, promised we'd catch the bus together."

Peter raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Sure, champ. No problem picking up your partner in crime. Though next time, maybe try a less flimsy excuse."

Cody's cheeks flushed a light pink. "It's not flimsy! Niles is my friend, and besides, you wouldn't want me to break a promise on the first day, would you?"

Peter chuckled, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Alright, alright. Just no detours, understand? We still have a schedule to keep."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Dad," Cody replied, a sly grin tugging at his lips. The promise of donuts and a friendly ride to school, along with the unspoken camaraderie with his dad, made the first day of senior year seem a little less daunting.

As Peter navigated the familiar streets in his beat-up station wagon, the morning radio chatter faded into the background. He cleared his throat, his gaze flicking to Cody for a brief moment before settling back on the road.

"Seen anything about that missing boy in the news?" he asked casually.

Cody took a bite of his donut, the sugary glaze clinging to his fingertips. "Alex?... Yeah," he mumbled, feigning disinterest. "It's pretty sad, huh?" He carefully avoided mentioning that he'd actually had a few run-ins with the boy, Alex, back in freshman year. A run-in that had unfortunately gotten both in a lot of trouble and nearly ruined Cody's chances of joining the debate team.

"Hope they find him safe," Peter muttered, his voice laced with concern. A tense silence settled between them, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of Cody devouring his donut.

Finally, Peter sighed and spoke again, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Listen, Cody," he began, "senior year's a turning point. You gotta be careful, make smart choices. Niles seems like a good kid, but..." he trailed off, his brow furrowing.

"But what, Dad?" Cody prompted, a flicker of unease twisting in his gut. He knew where this conversation was headed.

"Well," Peter continued, choosing his words carefully, "Niles seems to have a way of finding trouble. He's got a bit of a… loud mouth, and before you know it, you're both tangled up in something you don't want to be a part of."

Cody felt a pang of guilt. His dad wasn't entirely wrong. Niles did have a knack for getting them into messy situations, fueled by his impulsiveness and tendency to speak before he thought. But Cody also valued their friendship. Niles was his confidante, his partner in crime (as Peter so eloquently put it), the one person who understood his passion for comics and video games.

"I know, Dad," Cody mumbled, trying to sound sincere. "I'll keep an eye on things." He knew a full-blown defense of Niles wouldn't go over well, but a silent vow to be the voice of reason in their duo felt like the least he could do.

Peter offered him a look that mingled concern with trust. "Good. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, alright?" He stopped at a red light, the silence stretching between them once more. This time, however, it wasn't filled with tension, but with a subtle understanding. Cody knew his dad would always be there to guide him, even if his methods weren't always the smoothest. With a silent nod, Cody offered a small smile.

As Peter pulled up to the bus stop, Cody spotted Niles instantly. He stood out like a sore thumb amidst the throng of students – a head taller than most, with a mop of scruffy hair that tumbled over one eye like a poorly drawn anime protagonist. A pair of oversized headphones rested precariously over his ears, and a baggy jumper hung loosely on his lanky frame. A giant backpack, overflowing with who-knows-what, completed the picture.

But what truly snagged Cody's attention was the scene unfolding in front of Niles. Two older boys, their faces etched with sneers, were leaning into Niles, their voices dripping with what sounded like threats. Cody's stomach lurched. He knew those guys – a couple of troublemakers who got held back and seemed to thrive on picking on anyone smaller or weaker.

Just as Cody tensed, preparing to intervene, his father's car door slammed shut. Peter, his gaze sharp and his jaw set in a firm line, strode purposefully towards the group. The moment the bullies saw Peter approaching, their bravado faltered. They mumbled something inaudible to Peter, punctuated by a final shove, before skulking away, casting nervous glances back over their shoulders.

Niles, oblivious to the silent exchange, finally ripped off his headphones, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. "Huh? What was that all about?"

Peter reached them, his demeanor shifting from stern to friendly in a practiced move. "Hey there, Niles! Just giving Cody a lift to school. Everything alright?"

Niles blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Just some jerks messing around." His gaze flicked nervously toward the retreating figures.

Cody hopped out of the car, relief washing over him. "Hey, Niles! You ready to face the horrors of senior year?" he said, attempting a lighthearted tone.

Niles grinned, a flash of mischief glinting in his exposed eye. "Ready as I'll ever be, my friend. Just promise me there'll be donuts involved at some point today."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head but unable to hide a smile. "There will be donuts, Niles. But first, school." He opened the back door of the station wagon. "Hop in, you two. We've got a schedule to keep."

As Niles piled into the back, Cody stole a glance at his dad through the rearview mirror. A silent message passed between them – a mix of concern, trust, and the unspoken promise of a year filled with adventures, both exciting and nerve-wracking. The first day of senior year had just begun, and with Niles by his side, Cody knew it wouldn't be dull.

As Niles settled into the back with a sigh of relief, Peter slid his sestbelt on, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror. "You know those two knuckleheads, Niles?" he asked casually.

Niles snorted, a spark of defiance igniting in his exposed eye. "Know them? Heck yeah, I know them. They're always picking on someone. Bunch of bullies if you ask me. If it wasn't for, you know," he trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards Peter in the mirror, "with you being around and all, I would've whooped their—"

"Niles!" Cody interjected sharply, his voice laced with a mixture of annoyance and concern. He couldn't believe Niles was about to say something so reckless, especially with his dad right there.

Peter, however, remained unfazed. He chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to come from deep within his chest. "Whooped their… what, Niles?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but also a firm edge that brooked no nonsense.

Niles flushed, his bravado faltering slightly. "Uh, their… egos," he stammered, the defiance replaced by a sheepish grin. "Yeah, that's it. Just gonna deflate their egos a little next time they come messing around."

Peter let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the car. "Sounds like a plan, champ. Just remember, there are always other ways to deal with bullies. Violence shouldn't be the first answer."

Niles mumbled a reluctant agreement, but Cody could see a flicker of something else in his eye – a rebellious glint that suggested Niles might not be entirely convinced. Cody sighed inwardly. Keeping Niles out of trouble, especially with his impulsive nature, was going to be a challenge this year.

The radio chatter crackled through the speakers, a constant companion in Peter's beat-up station wagon. He glanced at Cody and Niles in the rearview mirror, their animated conversation a stark contrast to the seriousness etched on his own face. Senior year. The words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the challenges and choices that lay ahead for his son. He hoped Cody would navigate them with more grace than he had at that age.

A pang of guilt twisted in his gut as he thought about Niles. The boy was a walking contradiction – boisterous one moment, vulnerable the next. Peter knew Niles came from a rough patch of town, a single mom struggling to make ends meet. He couldn't help but see a flicker of himself in the boy, a younger Peter who'd made his share of mistakes growing up in this very town.

The familiar streets blurred past as Peter navigated towards the police station. Hollingsworth hadn't always been this way. He remembered a time when the steel mills hummed with activity, spewing smoke into a sky that wasn't perpetually tinged with an orange haze. Now, boarded-up windows and shuttered shops marred the once-vibrant downtown. The "Recession Shows No Sign of Slowing Down" headline from the newspaper replayed in his mind, a constant weight on his shoulders.

The cold worn leather steering wheel pressed against Peter's calloused palms as he pulled into the station parking lot. The station wagon rumbled to a stop, the silence inside a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions swirling within him.

Reaching for the door handle, his gaze fell on the police station entrance. A lone figure stood silhouetted against the glass doors, a beacon of despair even from this distance.

As he stepped out of the car, the harsh morning light revealed Mrs. Evans, Alex's mother. Her face, etched with worry lines that seemed to have deepened overnight, was pale and drawn. Her posture, once rigid with determination, now slumped with a heavy weight of grief. Peter felt a pang of sympathy for the woman, a feeling laced with a bitter dose of regret.

He approached her slowly, the gravel crunching under his boots. Mrs. Evans turned, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. For a moment, there was only a heavy silence, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Peter cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Evans," he began, his voice gruff but laced with a gentleness he didn't often use. "How are you holding up?"

She offered a humorless smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "Holding up, Miller? Is that what you call it? My son is missing, and it seems like no one cares." Her voice, though quiet, held an edge of anger that sent a shiver down Peter's spine.

"We care, Mrs. Evans," Peter assured her, his hand instinctively reaching for his badge, a gesture meant to offer reassurance. "We haven't stopped looking."

"But have you found anything? Any clues? Any sign of Alex?" The desperation in her voice gnawed at him.

Peter hesitated. The truth was, they hadn't. No new leads, no sightings, nothing. Just a gnawing fear that grew stronger with each passing day.

"We're following up on every lead," he said finally, his voice betraying none of the doubt gnawing at him. "We'll find him, Mrs. Evans. I promise."

Her gaze held his for a long, tense moment. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, she nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for trying."

Peter watched her turn and walk away, her steps heavy with despair. He stood there for a moment longer, the weight of her words settling on him like a grand piano. He knew he'd made promises, but the truth was, finding Alex felt increasingly like a long shot. Chances are when we find him, it would be too late. The frustration gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of his limitations.

Heading inside the station, the usual sights and sounds felt muted, the air thick with a tension that mirrored the one in his gut. As he approached his desk, a pile of case files awaited him. Each one represented a new problem, a mystery waiting to be solved. But none of them seemed to matter as much as the one that haunted him – the disappearance of Arthur Maidenpool.

Flashback

The fluorescent lights of the precinct buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glare on Peter's freshly minted badge. He was a rookie, green behind the ears, barely a week into his first assignment. The air crackled with a nervous energy that mirrored his own racing heart.

Suddenly, Sergeant Davis, a gruff veteran with a face etched with the city's grime, slammed a file on the desk. "Missing person," he barked, his voice raspy. Peter swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet the sergeant's gaze.

He opened the file, his eyes scanning the details. Arthur's face stared back at him from a faded photograph – a friendly smile that seemed at odds with the stark reality of the situation. A knot formed in Peter's stomach. This was his first real case, and the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him.

"He's been gone for two days," Sergeant Davis continued, his voice low. "No leads, no witnesses. Just… gone."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Missing persons weren't supposed to happen on his first week. Yet, here it was, a stark reminder of the city's underbelly, the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

End Flashback

The memory faded, leaving Peter with a bittersweet taste. Back then, the weight of Arthur's disappearance had felt crushing. Yet, it had also been the spark that ignited his determination, his unwavering commitment to serve and protect.

He tapped Arthur's file again, a newfound resolve hardening his gaze. Maybe there wasn't anything about Alex, but that wouldn't stop him. He owed this to Arthur, to that memory of a rookie cop facing his first real case. Peter wouldn't let him down.